


It Wasn't Love

by famouslastnerds (idkbro)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:06:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3765835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkbro/pseuds/famouslastnerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>comments r rad</p></blockquote>





	It Wasn't Love

It’s midnight. We are sitting in a park bench, under the streetlamp. We had just finished playing the last show on the European Tour, which is strange but comforting. After months of constant travel and late nights, it’ll be difficult for us to return to the slow pace of home.

“You played well.” I murmur to him, and he leans his head onto my shoulder, smiling.

“And you sang well.” He murmurs to me, almost inaudible. I wrap my arm around him and the streetlamp flickers. We are silent for the longest time, but it’s a good silence.

“Excited to go home?” He asks out of nowhere.

“Well, yeah.” I reply, playing with his hair. It’s kinda gross and sweaty, but it’s him, so I don’t mind.

“D’you think they be okay with it?”

“Okay with what?”  
“Us.” He says, eyes meeting mine, and I think for a second. What if they aren’t? Would I fight for him? Would he fight for me?

“I think mostly everyone will be okay with it, if they aren’t, I won’t care.”

“Well obviously, nothing can break us. Not even social pressures.” He says, grinning, “Especially not social pressures.

I smile too, “I love you.”  
“Love you too, Gee.” He says, and I hold him closer. We could stay like this forever, I wouldn’t mind.

 

It’s 2 am. I always wake up at this part of the dream. Last night of our Europe tour, romantic night out in Paris. When we say that we will never be torn apart. When we say that we’d fight for each other.

Well, look where we’re at now.

They did break us, eventually. We couldn’t stay together anymore and suddenly he had a girlfriend and when I tried to fight for him, he told me to fuck off. So I did. And I went on to live my life and he lived his life. And when I was best man at his wedding, I tried to be respectful. It sure didn’t stop me from leaving early though.

Then it happened for me, I found Lynz and I knew she was the only one that had a chance at replacing him. And she did, and she still does, but nostalgia has caught up to me. And I don’t still love him like I did, I just need closure, I need him to make a statement.

I open my eyes, sitting up, and rubbing my face. Lynz isn’t home. If she were, she’d know how to help me sleep. But she’s visiting a friend in New York, helping her with her art show.

I get up, shuffling across the room. I stare into the mirror. My hair is unruly and the bags under my eyes are apparent. We could have been different, we could have had the world. But he didn’t want that.

I pull out my notebook from the dresser, the only way to make myself feel better. Opening to a new page, I try to spit out my emotions in order to convince myself that he is insignificant. But then I remember all of the good times we had. All of the times we would kiss behind the tour bus or in the studio. All the times he told me he loved me and I would tell him that I loved him. And then the time he fell in love with someone else.

As I grow older, I’m realizing how much he hurt me. How much I just need him to apologize. But he isn’t going to, so I need to bring closure by myself.

I think about the times he told me he loved me but I also think about all the times he only wanted to fuck. All the times in hotel rooms, in the studio bathroom, in the small backstage before shows. It wasn’t love. He didn’t love me. He just needed someone and I was there.

And I write down a single line in large, bold letters.

And I call my studio. I tell them that I’ll be in for recording the next day.

 

A year later, I walk on the stage in front of a few hundred kids. I begin the song and the audience sings along with me.

“It’s not loving if it’s just fucking.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments r rad


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